


Fake It til you Make It

by keyflight790



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, More tags to follow, Oblivious!Harry, Slow Burn, Top Harry Potter, Top!Harry, Virginity, ball play, ball tugging, bottom!Draco, but it happens, hopeless!Draco, kink discussion, lots of snark, past mentions of breakups, so heres a tag, there is no tag for that?, tugging of balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790
Summary: Harry and Draco are forced to go to interview after interview to discuss what happened during the war. But it's what happens off-camera that the press (and Harry) really want to know about.Or the one where Draco and Harry get into a fake relationship to piss off the paparazzi, but find that they don't need the flash of the camera to find their spark.





	1. Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mothermalfoy (slytherinxravenclaw)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinxravenclaw/gifts).



> Written for the lovely, wonderful and supportive MotherMalfoy who provided an enticing prompt on tumblr that I just had to answer. It went a little off the rails, but I hope you still enjoy this fic! 
> 
> A big thank you to RandomRealist for the excellent beta and britpicking!

“It’s a wrap for the day,” the director called out, and Harry felt like he could finally breathe again. They’d been at it for days, dragged in and out of this interview and that, everyone wanting a piece of him, of their story.

A  _ Press Junket _ , the Ministry had called it, although Harry thought it was more like torture, and most days he’d rather trade it for one in the tent during their Horcrux hunt, when they were starving and surrounded by trees and fear. At least there he was with friends, and he could breathe fresh air, and he wasn’t confined to a couch or a high-backed chair, or sometimes a rocky stool.

The junket did have food though, lots of tarts and pies and chips, and Harry ate until he was past full. It had always been hard for him to not fill his belly after so many nights going without.

At the beginning, Hermione and Ron had been there, answering questions, confident at his side. But then Hermione had gotten pregnant, unexpected but still exciting, and she and Ron had backed out. Neville had also escaped, blaming his upcoming position at Hogwarts as a valid excuse to avoid the cameras.

It left only he and Malfoy, both forced to participate if they wanted to still enter Auror training in the fall. The Ministry was encouraging the release of their stories, to build trust and promote transparency. Harry wondered if it was worth it, all the pressure of microphones and cameras and directors; if he still wanted to be an Auror after everything that had happened.

He wondered how Malfoy felt about the whole thing. They spoke occasionally, usually exchanging pleasantries in between sets, the errant nod over the craft service table. Since the rest of the group had departed, and only the two of them remained, they’d even had a couple of decent conversations. Malfoy had mentioned how his father had always expected big things of him, and how much it would piss him off that Malfoy joined the very team that was holding him in Azkaban, but Harry thought there may be more to him joining their particular career path.

For Harry, it was a matter of restoring and keeping balance, of offering the protection he always wished he himself could have relied on. The need to constantly help.

He still felt that urge, that pull, but being forced into doing things against his will already, before he’d even joined, had made him question the very backbone of the department. It seemed a little soon to already have doubts.

Harry hurried to the exit door, eager to get back to his flat and to the comfort of his bed, when he was swamped by the paparazzi. He tried to cover his scar in a feeble attempt to ruin their pictures, but he knew there was no use. He’d be there, front and center on every wizarding magazine whether he liked it or not.

The last cover had screamed, “Chosen One Searches for His Chosen One,” with a picture of Harry leaving Fortescue's with two ice cream cones. Merlin forbid he bring his pregnant friend her favourite craving food of vanilla ice cream and pickles.

The one before that had really irked him. “Golden Boy Dumps Girl,” with a large image of Ginny fleeing his flat, tears streaming down her cheeks. As if breaking up with his childhood sweetheart hadn’t been hard enough, he’d had to relive it even weeks later when he ducked into Flourish and Blotts.

Why everyone was so obsessed with who he was dating, Harry had no clue. Surely, just weeks after the end of the war, there were better things to talk about than who was in Harry’s bed. But if the camera flash that he regularly saw outside his flat was any indication, the press were no closer to tiring of Harry’s dating life than Harry was tired of being reminded of his celebrity.

He pushed a cameraman out of the way as he hurried to the Apparition point, wand gripped by his side, and with a final twist, he found himself in the safety of his home.

\---------

“Do they bother you like this?” Harry asked Malfoy the next day, when security pulled a stray fan from the set of  _ Good Morning, Diagon! _

“Oh yes, Potter. Hardly a day goes by that the press isn’t asking me which bloke I’m shagging.”

“Bloke?” Harry swallowed, and reached for his glass of ice water.

“Mmm,” Malfoy nodded. “Problem?”

“No, it’s just. Well, I didn’t know.”

“It’s common knowledge around those of us who actually stayed and finished up our seventh year.”

“Oh, sorry I missed class, Malfoy, I was out saving the world.”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes. “The Boy Who Lived Twice, I do declare!” Draco placed a delicate hand on his throat. “Let me just drop my knickers at your feet.”

“Toss off,” Harry laughed and shoved Malfoy playfully in the shoulder. “So the press doesn’t follow you at all?”

“I didn’t say that,” Malfoy shrugged. “They’re just not worried about who I’m shagging, more who I’m threatening.”

“Threatening?” Harry blinked.

“Yes, yes, Dark Mark, Death Eater. I’m still a dangerous man, didn’t you know?”

“I’m terrified of you,” Harry grinned and took another sip of water.

“Lights!” the director called, and Harry straightened his back, ready to begin another day of false smiles and fake laughter.

\-------

“You know, if it really bothers you, I have an idea,” Malfoy mentioned after a painful three-hour interview about how Harry felt walking into the forest, and how Malfoy survived with Voldemort in his home for six months.

_ “Terrified, how do you think I felt?” _

_ “It was glorious, we braided each other’s hair and even got matching nose rings.” _

“An idea for what?”

“Get the paps off your back.”

“The paps? What, are we nicknaming them?”

“Oh yes,” Malfoy grinned. “I call that one over there Umbridge because he-”

“Looks like a toad, yes, I see it.”

“Anyway, my idea.”

“The one for the paps.”

“The brilliant one, yes,” Malfoy smirked. “We get them off of your back by saying you’re on mine.”

Harry coughed aggressively. Malfoy tapped his shoulder with very little force.

“There, there, Potter, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Harry gasped, trying to catch his breath. “I just wasn’t ready for -”

“My proposition?”

“Yeah. That.”

“By making the paps think that you’re in a happy relationship, they might leave you alone. Happy people are boring,” Malfoy shrugged.

“You think we’d be happy?” Harry stared. He tried to envision it, the two of them holding hands, kissing under a streetlamp. The things he’d always seen happy couples do in the movies Petunia used to watch on the telly.

“It’s all pretend. Surely even you can pretend to be happy, Potter.”

“But wouldn’t you-” Harry frowned. “Why aren’t you-”

“ In a relationship? Currently getting fucked up against a wall?” Malfoy stared as Harry spluttered. “No one wants a former Death Eater, no matter how good they look in the news.”

“I just mean-”

“It was just an idea. No need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“I’m not wearing knickers, Malfoy.”

“Good to know.”

\-----------

Harry couldn’t sleep that night. He kept tossing and turning, thinking of Malfoy’s proposition. On one hand, he knew he wasn’t ready to date, especially this soon after his breakup with Ginny. And while he was somewhere on the scale of homosexuality, he wasn’t sure that fake-dating Malfoy was exactly how he wanted the public to find out.

He also couldn’t hide behind the fact that if they entered into this fake-but totally real-looking relationship that they would have to actually do things. Harry knew the papers wouldn’t stop until they witnessed them holding hands, or canoodling, or kissing. It wouldn’t be until their kisses became a constant that they would finally leave them alone.

He thought about how it would feel to hold Malfoy’s hand while he was shopping at the market, or in between interviews. How it would feel to have Malfoy at his flat, eating dinner, maybe even leaving the next morning, if they were going to make the whole thing believable.

How would it feel to have Malfoy’s lips on his own, whether they’d be soft and timid or hard and passionate. And how, as his hand dropped down to the hardening length of his cock, he’d have to start thinking of Malfoy as Draco instead. Especially as he tugged, thinking of blond hair and grey eyes and pale skin.

The next morning Harry approached Mal- _ Draco _ with an extra large grin.

“Let’s do it,” Harry said, and Draco looked at him with his usual bored expression.

“Brilliant,” he answered blandly, as though Harry had just suggested they split a croissant instead of form a fake-dating relationship.

“So how do we start,” Harry asked, nervously tapping his foot.

“We start by  _ you _ getting  _ me _ a coffee,” Draco murmured, running a hand through his hair as he prepared for the spotlight.

The day continued just like the day before, with makeup artists touching up his bronzer, and producers in his face, and directors in his ear shouting words like “Action!” and “Again, but this time look at the camera, Harry!”

He kept looking at Draco, who appeared as calm as the surface of the black lake. Harry, meanwhile, couldn’t stop shaking his knee and tapping his foot.

Finally, the director cut them for lunch, and Draco stared petulantly at him for the first time in four hours.

“What the fuck, Potter,” he grunted, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“We haven’t even started.”

“But what if they find out?”

“Find out what? That we’re not actually fucking? Are they photographing your sheets, looking for signs of both of our come?”

Harry blushed and Draco chuckled.

“They won’t find out, would you just relax?” Draco murmured low, and then -

And then he laced his fingers in Harry’s and squeezed.

Harry could feel his cheeks tint even darker as Draco smirked at him, sipping his water as if it was just another day on-set.

They were still holding hands when the producer made his rounds. His eyes went wide as he noted the small token of affection between the two of them.

“Oh, is this a new development? Rita will definitely want to cover this in her next segment. Would you feel comfortable talking about your relationship on  _ Skeeter Speaks _ ?”

“Uh, I guess so?” Harry stuttered.

“Yes, absolutely,” Draco concurred, lifting their joined hands in confirmation.

\-----------

“As all of the Wizarding World knows, Harry Potter and I have a very trusting relationship, isn’t that right, Harry?”

“Erm,”

“We’re quite old friends, and since we’re so close, darling Harry has decided to announce something very exciting and very private on my show!” Rita continued, oblivious to Harry’s awkward glances.

“So what special news have you decided to ONLY share on my show,  _ Skeeter Speaks _ , because we have such a wonderful relationship, Harry?”

“Well, I guess,” Harry started.

“You and Mr. Malfoy here are in a loving and caring relationship! I, for one, am so excited for the both of you,” Rita exclaimed, glancing quickly at Draco but then diverting her attention back at Harry. “And to come on my show, and provide us an exclusive because you and I are such good friends!”

“I wouldn’t exactly,”

“Yes, we are in a relationship,” Draco nodded, reaching for Harry’s hand. “We’re so in love, and we’re so excited to celebrate with you, Rita, our closest friend!”

Rita grinned to the point where Harry thought her lipstick would spread over her entire face. “Yes, close friends, aren’t we, Draco! And we’re so happy for you both! Now give us a kiss!”

Harry’s eyes darted from Rita’s to Draco’s in a panic. He knew they’d have to kiss eventually, but now? Here? With the cameras rolling? They had only just held hands, and this all seemed to be moving too fast and-

“I’ve got you,” Draco leaned in and murmured in his ear before pressing his lips softly onto Harry’s own.

Harry barely had a chance to close his eyes before the kiss was over, his head tilting forward as Draco retreated. Draco smiled sweetly at Rita, and the sight of it made Harry feel nauseous, and weak, and unsure.

He knew he needed to talk to Draco and set some guidelines before they continued, but first, he had to get through this god-awful interview.

“Right, well Rita, we’re just super happy, and our lives are pretty boring, so there’s really not much else to tell!” Harry attempted his most genuine smile, hoping to speed the interview along.

\-----------

“Subtle,” Draco smirked after the director called a wrap. “Super realistic. I especially loved that bit at the end about how we mostly just listen to the wireless and eat soup.”

“I wanted us to sound boring.”

“You made us sound comatose.”

“Should we see if they bought it?”

Draco threaded his fingers into Harry’s and opened the door to flashing lights and their names screamed into the wind.


	2. Camera

“I think we should go on a proper date,” Harry suggested the next day. They had been sitting on hard stools, answering questions for various History authors, and his skin was crawling from the sound of quills dragged across parchment as they recanted their journeys over the past years.

“A date?” Draco repeated.

“You know, flowers, dinner, the whole lot.”

“I don’t do flowers, Potter, but I’d be amenable to dinner.”

“That’s another thing. I think you should call me Harry.”

“And I think you would look better if you took a comb to your scalp.”

“If we’re supposed to be making love-” Harry started.

“Making love? Since when did our relationship become a Harlequin novel.”

“What would you know about those muggle books anyway?”

“Mother always kept them at the Manor. Hid them in her dresser, I may have taken a read.”

“Really?” Harry grinned, thinking of a young Draco reading smut under the covers in his room. “And?”

“And they were...enlightening.”

“What parts?”

“Take me to dinner, and I’ll tell you.”

“What about Le Gavroche?”

“French? Not sure the paps will find us there.”

“They will if they follow us,” Harry grinned. “Meet me at my flat at 7, we can walk there together.”

\----

Harry spent the rest of the day contemplating outfits. What does one wear to a fake date with someone he used to despise, especially if he  _ wants _ to be photographed?

He settled on a dark green jumper that Hermione had picked out when they first started the Junket and paired it with a pair of his cleanest jeans and brown loafers. Overall, he didn’t think he looked that shabby. At the last minute he remembered with a grimace the comment Draco had made about his hair, and he attempted to run a comb through the mess. 

Even though it was a fake date, Harry couldn’t help but feel real-nervous when he the wards shifted and Draco approached his doorstep. He opened the door before he’d even heard a knock, and grinned widely at the clear surprise on Draco’s face. 

“Ready?” Draco asked, eyeing Harry up and down.

“Do I look okay?”

“You’ll do,” Draco smirked, and Harry held out his arm for Draco to take.

“Mmm, a gentleman,” Draco murmured, and soon they were stepping out of the wards to the swarms of paparazzi that awaited them.

The photogs followed them all the way from Harry’s flat to the tiny French restaurant on the corner, snapping pictures of them holding hands, arms wrapped around waists as they walked in the hot summer air. When they entered the restaurant, most of them gathered outside, pressing against the glass and attempting to sneak a peek at the supposed happy couple who were sat at a booth in the back. 

Harry exhaled as the flashes faded, and he only spotted a couple of patrons gawking at the couple as they ate their duck confit. 

“So,” Harry said, unwrapping his napkin and spreading it across his lap.

“So,” Draco responded, and Harry worried for a moment that their dinner might be filled with awkward pauses and too many sips of wine.

Instead, Draco started instantly on a story about Pansy, noting her current fashion line and how she and Blaise were making a name for themselves in the heart of Paris.

Harry responded with talks of Hermione and Ron’s upcoming wedding, how Hermione was already showing, and his curiosity of if it would be a girl or a boy.

They chatted about Quidditch, and whether the Cannons were finally going to destroy the Arrows in the next match, and how the Harpies were sure to be in the championship.

Their conversation turned to Ginny, and how happy Harry was for her and her team, and how their relationship was really doomed from the start, and when Draco realized he was into blokes.

“Neville was my first,” Draco admitted after his third glass of Bordeaux. 

Harry nearly spat out his drink. “Neville? As in Longbottom?”

“His bottom’s not the only thing that’s long,” Draco smirked as he took another sip. 

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t believe where the conversation was heading.

“Why’d it end?”

“Between me and Neville? There wasn’t enough...pep in his step.”

“What?” Harry stared, confused.

“He couldn’t quite give me what I needed.”

“And what did you need?”

Draco took a large gulp of wine. “I need to be fucked, hard. I need a hand around my neck and another on my arse. I need to be pounded into the nearest soft surface, or hard surface if the occasion arises.”

Harry stared, his mouth open. 

“And Neville was too gentle. Besides, he fell in love with Luna pretty quickly after our time together.”

“Luna?”

“Merlin, Potter, does everything escape you?”

“Harry.”

“Right.”

Harry took another sip of wine and let Draco’s words sink in. He imagined pale skin bent over the small desk he had in his bedroom as he slammed into him, gripping his hips so hard that they bruised. What his fingers would look like pressed against that tiny throat.

He shifted, trying to relieve the sudden tightness in his trousers.

“Did you read about that in your books?” Harry asked. A part of him wanted to change the subject, but another part of him desperately wanted to hear more.

“They’re called novels, Potter,” Draco sneered, “and they were very educational.” He ran a hand through his hair, and a lock dropped to cover his eyes, and suddenly Draco looked soft and warm. Harry’s lips tingled as he thought of their kiss earlier, how Draco had murmured  _ I’ve got you _ in his ear.

There were two bites of chicken left on his plate and Harry wondered how long he could make them last. He cut the tiniest corner off and placed it on his tongue just to avoid saying something stupid.

“Tell me about one?” He should have taken a bigger bite.

Draco’s eyes twinkled. “Sure you can handle it, Scarhead?”

Harry wasn’t sure at all, but he nodded anyway.

“So the first one I read was about this farmer and his hand.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

“Not his actual hand, you blight, his farm hand, like an apprentice.” Draco rolled his eyes and continued. “Well, the farmhand let a horse loose, so the farmer had to punish him.”

“How?” Harry asked, shifting again. He thought maybe if he just undid the top button of his trousers it would help his growing situation.

“Made him write lines, how do you think, Potter?”

“Harry.”

“Whatever. The Farmer took him over his knee and spanked him.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded, his jaw working as if he was swallowing food, when really he was just trying to swallow air, suddenly forgetting how breathing worked. 

“Oh, indeed. He had been a bad boy, so he needed to be punished.” Draco stared at him across the small table and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Harry wanted to chase it with his own.

“What did he use?” Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“His hand, then his belt.” Draco blushed, and the colour looked so stark against his pale skin. Harry wondered if other parts of him would redden like that. “Then some rope, which he then tied around his wrists.” He crossed his wrists and lifted them up above his head, mimicking the scene in the novel.

“Right.” Harry bit his lip.

“And then he traced the boys spine with his tongue, tasting him, and the boy shivered in anticipation.” Draco was licking his lips during every pause of his words, and Harry was finding the movement completely distracting.

“Until he reached his sweet, virgin arse, plump, and red from his whipping,” Draco swallowed hard, and Harry watched his adam's apple bob up and down. “And the farmer kissed him there, on his hole. Opened him up with his tongue.”

It was as if the entire restaurant only contained Draco and his mouth, and Harry was digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand to stop leaping over the table and dragging Draco down, so he could open him up with his own tongue.

“Have you ever done that?” Draco asked, a silver fork in his hand and a silver glint in his eye.

“Never worked on a farm,” Harry answered, unable to look away.

“I mean have you ever rimmed someone.”

“Oh.” It was Harry’s turn to blush. He didn’t want to admit that he had never done anything, that one of his first and only kisses had been in the same room that he had saved Draco from the flames, and both had ended in tears.

He was used to pretending, so he pulled on his armor of confidence and answered.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Not a direct answer, but not a lie. 

“I would, actually. We could go back to mine, and I’ll read you a bedtime story,” Draco smirked before downing the rest of his glass.

\--------------

The paparazzi swarmed them as the couple left the restaurant and walked, hand in hand to the nearest Apparition point. Several of them were screaming out their names, or a combination of their names, begging for a kiss or even a hug. Anything they could stamp across the front page of a paper. A few were even asking invasive questions that made Harry blush, but Draco just gripped his hand firmly. He made a big show of winking at the cameramen before placing his hand on Harry's arse before spinning them both on the spot. 

Once Harry's stomach stopped clenching from Apparition, he took a look around. Draco’s flat was clean, but bare, only a single couch and a side table with a small lamp. Harry could barely see a tiny bookshelf in the corner, overflowing with paperbacks.

“Where’s all your things?” Harry asked, kicking off his shoes and surveying the room.

“At the Manor. Haven’t been able to go back since…”

“Since Voldemort died?”

“Since he sat at my kitchen table.”

Harry nodded. Voldemort had been in his mind for so long, but Harry couldn’t imagine having to sit across from him and break bread, unable to stop him from torturing your family and fellow classmates. 

“Want some wine?” Draco headed to the kitchen and procured two stemmed glasses. He filled each with red and handed one to Harry.

Harry took a sip, and set the glass nervously on the table. He rubbed his hands on his trousers, hoping to disguise the sweat he felt creeping over his skin.

“So, what’s your poison?” Draco asked, now leaning in front of his bookcase.

“Reds fine, but I usually go for a lager,” Harry glanced at the glass, worried that if he picked it up again, it would slip out of his trembling hands.

“Not your drink, your story,” Draco smirked. “What turns you on?”

“Oh.” Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember something, anything that he had read or seen that had made him even half as hard as he was, just sitting on Draco’s couch. “I liked what you were saying, before.”

“Mmm, a little power play? Ministers punishing their secretaries, Teachers delving out some extra credit?” Draco flipped through a couple of titles, before looking at Harry. “I can’t imagine that’s your thing.”

Harry shook his head. He thought about Dumbledore, and Snape, and Umbridge with her lines and her quill and the scar that still itched when it rained.  

“You did like the rope, though.” Draco watched with intensity as Harry shifted on the couch, unable to meet his eyes. “Tying someone up, having their body at your mercy?”

Harry gulped, visions of Draco splayed across the little table, his hands knotted together like he had mocked at the restaurant, his arse red and tender, skin hot from a lashing.

“Doesn’t have to be a punishment, Potter.” 

Draco’s fingers were dancing along his own collarbone, and Harry wanted to bite him there, trail his mouth along his neck and up to his ear. He wanted to whisper things into Draco’s ear like Draco had done the previous day, but he didn’t even know what he’d say.

“Can you read me something like that?” He wanted to sound confident, but his voice betrayed him, coming out as barely a whisper. Still, Draco nodded and pulled a dog-eared book off the shelf.

He settled himself on the couch, tucking his ankle under his knee. If Harry shifted just right, he could press his thigh up against Draco, finally touch him as he’d been craving to do all day.

Draco opened the book, selecting a page, and Harry used the opportunity to scooch closer under the guise of reading the black ink.

“There’s a few characters in this book, but the main leads are Marco and James. They grew up on opposite sides of the tracks, and, well, Marco was a little bit of a bully.”

“Interesting,” Harry said, but all he could really concentrate on was the sound of Draco’s voice and his thigh pressed against his own, and his cock which had been hard most of the evening. 

“Well, they’re squabbling, as usual, but then James pushes Marco into the wall, and...I’ll just read it to you, shall I?”

“Please,” Harry answered, and  _ damnit _ if it didn’t sound heated and needy, as though Harry was asking for something heavier than a bedtime story. And perhaps he was, if Draco was open to more than fiction and wine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the lovely @hermione18802 for the beta and britpicking, and to @mothermalfoy for the steamy prompt (and overall support, and for chatting with me about soooo much Harry and Draco)


	3. Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much Jeldenil for the amazing beta-prowess!!! (also midnight_cowgirl, you win my heart with your seven kudos, thank you so much!)

“ _ James shoved Marco against the wall, his thumb pushing dangerously into the hollow of Marco’s slender throat, _ ” Draco started to read, his own hand ghosting over his neck. 

_ ‘I don’t know why you hate me so much,’ he growled as he stepped closer, encasing him with the long lines of his body and the hard surface of the wall along his back. _

_ ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Marco spat in return, his pupils blown and his hair matted against his face. James could feel him trembling, with anger or possibly with something else. _

_ ‘Try me.’ James didn’t know what it was like to grow up with money, but at the end of the day they were just two men. Whatever it was, he thought he could at least attempt to relate.   _

_ Marco’s eyes blurred, as if he was drifting away, and James gripped his neck tighter, hoping to keep him focused. It was then he felt it brewing in Marco’s throat, before the tiniest moan escaped his lips. _

Draco let out a noise that sounded more like his own moan before he covered it with a cough, and Harry swallowed. He wanted more of this story, more of Draco’s voice saying such sultry things.

_ James released his hand immediately, dropping his arms to his sides. ‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked, the worry clearly present in his voice. _

_ ‘Not enough,’ Marco moaned, and he rolled his hips. James felt it; a hard erection from the man he had pressed up against the wall.  _

_ This time he was the one who moaned, as Marco canted his hips, dragging himself against James again and again.  _

_ ‘Oh,’ James gasped as his own length began to respond. He still wasn’t sure what Marco wanted, but he suddenly knew exactly what he himself craved.  _

Harry was craving something as well. He shifted his hand until it was hovering over Draco’s lap, and with an inhale, he allowed it to drop. Draco snapped his head towards him as Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco’s length through the cloth, elated to find that Draco was just as hard as he was.

“Potter,” Draco said sternly.

“Harry,” he corrected. “Keep reading, Draco.”

Draco stared back for a moment, his mouth gaping open, before he turned his attention back to the page.

_ James stepped back, releasing his hold on Marco, allowing him to escape. But Marco stood still, watching, his breath rapid and shallow. _

_ ‘Do you want it to hurt?’ James asked calmly. ‘Do you want me to punish you?’ _

_ ‘Yes. And no’ Marco whispered. _

_ James nodded. ‘Yes, you want it to hurt, but not as a punishment. As a reward then?’  _

_ Marco nodded, his face flushing red. _

_ ‘Show me what a good boy you can be,’ James commanded. ‘Get on your knees.’ _

Harry teased Draco through the fabric of his trousers as he read, hoping the trembling in his arm wouldn’t expose him for the fraud that he was. He would be mortified if Draco knew his was the first cock he had touched other than his own. And yet, he summoned his Gryffindor courage and tugged at Draco’s flies, burying his hand underneath the fabric until they were skin on skin. 

“Keep going,” Harry leaned in and whispered in Draco’s ear when he paused, bucking his hips into Harry’s hand. Draco licked his lips, his voice raspy when he started again.

_ Marco dropped to the floor but his eyes stayed locked on James. He looked needy, desperate, and so beautiful, the rough facade of their childish torments evaporating into the tense air. _

“Oh gods,” Draco moaned as Harry circled the tip of his cock with the palm of his hand.

“Yes,” Harry whispered into his neck before kissing him there. He nibbled along the long span of his throat, while his hand continued to pull at Draco’s length. 

Draco let another moan escape into the room and Harry pulled back, searching Draco’s eyes for that same look, heady and desperate and beautiful.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, and pressed his lips to Draco’s collarbone.

“There aren’t paparazzi here,” Draco tilted his head, exposing more of his pale, succulent skin.

“No, but we do have a producer,” Harry said before nibbling on Draco’s earlobe. “Keep reading. Your voice, it’s...encouraging.” 

Harry’s face flushed, suddenly nervous he had revealed too much. 

Draco didn’t seem to mind. He arched his hips into Harry’s touch before licking a finger and turning the page.

_ Parting his sensuous lips, Marco opened his mouth to take in James’ cock. The alleyway filled with sounds of grumbled moans and passionate sucking.  _

Harry shifted until he was kneeling on the floor, and positioned himself in between Draco’s thighs. His fingers deftly undid the zips until his burgeoning cock sprung out of his trousers. 

He stared hungrily at Draco’s newly exposed length and as Draco continued to read out loud, Harry leaned in and licked a fat stripe across the needy pink head of Draco’s cock.

“Oh fuck,” Draco shouted, the book sliding off of his lap and crashing into Harry’s scalp.

“Ow!” Harry rubbed a tiny mark on his forehead.

“New scar?” Draco smirked before swiping his thumb over the small divot. “You just surprised me.”

Harry could feel his face flush. “Surprised in a good way?”

“Surprised as in you better do that again,” Draco said, pushing his trousers the rest of the way to the floor. He situated himself so his arse was half off the couch, and he spread his thighs invitingly. 

“Gladly,” Harry worked his jaw slightly before he took Draco’s cock into his hand. He wrapped a finger and thumb around the base and took the tip back into his mouth.

Draco groaned loudly, canting his hips and tilting his head into the back of the couch. If listening to Draco read erotic novels had turned Harry on, it was nothing compared to hearing him moan like that. 

Tentatively, Harry took in more and more of Draco’s length into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue as he went. He listened carefully to the sounds Draco continued to make, and adjusted when a particularly seductive moan escaped his lips.

Even though it was his first time, Harry felt as though he was performing a more-than-mediocre blow job. He still wanted to make it better, make it something Draco wouldn’t forget the next day, or even the next month. He remembered that part of the story, about  _ pain _ as a reward, and decided to try to meet that balance. 

His free hand reached up to cup Draco’s bollocks, and he gave them a soft caress. Draco moaned softly, his fair eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Harry wanted to kiss him there, on his nose, on his lips, but he kept his mouth on the length of Draco’s cock, and gave his sack a firm tug instead.

“Fuck,” Draco grunted, his silver eyes opening wide and boring into Harry’s green. Harry hummed delightfully around Draco’s thickness and pulled on his bollocks again, watching Draco’s pupils dilate with pleasure. 

“Ngggh, Merlin, yes,” Draco continued to moan as he grasped at the mess of Harry’s hair, his shoulder, his wrists. “Keep going, oh gods, no, stop. Stop, Potter!”

Harry immediately pulled his mouth off of Draco and lowered his hands. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice froggy and timid. 

“No,” Draco breathed in and out heavily. “Merlin, no, I was just about to come.”

“Oh,” Harry blushed deeply. “And that would be a problem, because?”

Draco lifted Harry’s face to his own and pulled him into a searing kiss. Unlike the quick kiss from the previous day, Harry had time to close his eyes, to fully enjoy the taste of Draco on his lips, the way his tongue felt pressed into his mouth. He had time to card his fingers into Draco’s soft hair, to wrap a palm around the back of Draco’s neck. To hold him while they embraced, leaning into each other for strength and support.

Harry nibbled on Draco’s lip, before plunging his tongue into the wet heat of Draco’s mouth. He caged Draco’s throat with a secure hand, and held him steady as he continued to kiss his cheek, then the ridges of his jawline.

“I want you inside me,” Draco moaned into Harry’s ear, his bare cock pressing needily against Harry’s clothed thigh. “Want you to fuck me open while I come.”


	4. Cut

Harry’s heart was racing. The novel, the kissing, his lips stretched around Draco’s cock. It was suddenly all too much and not even close to being enough.

“Erm,” he breathed into Draco’s thighs. His hands were shaking, and he could feel sweat pooling above his brows.

“Problem, Potter?” Draco asked.

“It’s just -” Harry looked up, a look of worry covering his previously confident face.

“Not a Chaser I presume? Interesting,” Draco sighed from the couch.

“I was a Seeker, you git,” Harry spat, crawling to his feet. Draco leaned back and arched an eyebrow from the couch.

“No. Chaser...bull...pitcher? You’re not a top,” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “No, I think...I mean I probably-”

“Don’t mind being the Chaser or the Keeper?”

“Could we stop talking about Quidditch?”

“Well it is a game involving sticks and balls,” Draco winked.

_Shit._

“I don’t...I mean I haven’t,” Harry fumbled with his hands.

“Spit it out, Potter. If you don’t want to fuck me that’s fine. This was all pretend anyway. I should have never read you that book, I’m so stupid to think-” Draco stood, his stormy grey eyes now locked in line with Harry’s soft green.

“You’re not stupid,” Harry mumbled.

“What? Honestly Potter, it’s like a pendulum in here, do you want to fuck me or not.”

“Yes, Merlin, I want to fuck you so bad.” Harry clenched his fists, before grabbing Draco by the waist. Draco sucked in a breath. “I want to so bad, I want to give you exactly what you want. I just…haven’t before.”

Draco released his breath, hot on Harry’s cheek. “Oh.”

“Right.”

“Oh,” Draco repeated, letting Harry’s revelation sink in.

“There wasn’t really...time,” Harry blushed.

He gripped harder on Draco’s waist, hoping to keep him there, keep him in his arms. Hoping Draco wouldn’t kick him to the floo.

Draco bit his lip, squirmed out of Harry’s arms and sat back down on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him in invitation.

Harry begrudgingly sat, staring at his hole-worn socks instead of the naked man next to him.  

“What have you done?” Draco asked softly. His hand drifted up to Harry’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing calming circles into Harry’s skin.

He shrugged. “Not much. Ginny and I used to snog a little, but that stopped when-”

“When you left to save the world.”

“When I left to die,” Harry bit. He thrummed his fingers on his thighs anxiously. This isn’t how he imagined this evening going at all.

“Mmm,” Draco smirked. “Well then, let me repay you for your sacrifice.”

His lap was suddenly full with a very handsome, very naked Malfoy.

“You don’t care?” Harry said, surprised. “That I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“More like I don’t mind being your first, Potter.” Draco squirmed in his lap until his knees pressed on either side of Harry’s hips. “But I do want to know what turns you on.”

“You,” Harry answered before he even thought about it, and his face darkened into a crimson red.

Draco smirked. “Naked man in your lap, yes I can see that. Let’s see what else sparks your interest, shall we?” He tucked a hand past the hem of Harry’s trousers until his knuckles grazed the tip of his cock. Harry bucked into the sensation and let out a harsh hiss.

“Not - nggh,” Harry moaned as Draco wrapped his fingers around the cloth outline of Harry’s cock. “Not just a naked man,” he gasped. “Just, hold on.”

He stilled his long fingers and leaned back in Harry’s lap. “It’ll be easier if we get the first orgasm out of the way, Potter.”

“It’s Harry, damnit! And you’re Draco, and this is, it’s -” Harry squinted his eyes closed. “I don’t just want any bloke. I want you.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Draco spat, and Harry could practically hear his surname tucked under his breath. “You have no idea.”

“Just because I’m a fucking virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know what it’s like to want someone,” Harry returned, anger replacing the harsh blush on his cheeks. Draco stilled in Harry’s lap, his eyes dark and vulnerable.

“I want you, Draco.” Draco shook his head and his mouth opened to retaliate, but Harry covered his lips with the pad of his thumb. “I want the snarky git that calls me out on my shit, and makes me laugh even when my day’s been absolute rubbish. I want the tosser that makes me get him coffee, and tells me stories and understands my secrets.” Harry’s hands gripped the outside of Draco’s arse.

“Potter-”

“Harry. Say it, Draco. Say it and I’m yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't hate me. I promise, the next chapter is worth the pain of this one.


	5. That's a Wrap

“I’m no good, Potter,” Draco tried to pull out of Harry’s grasp, but Harry’s fingers just dug in deeper into his porcelain skin. “Our world hates me. You should be doing this with someone who deserves you.”

Harry shook his head. He was close, so close to getting what he wanted, finally. It was a new feeling for him, actually craving something that was within his grasp, and now, just like everything else, it was getting ripped away.

He couldn’t let that happen, not after everything he, everything they’ve both went through.

Instead of giving up, he lifted Draco up by his hips and rolled them to the floor, pressing Draco’s back into the hardwood. Straddling him, Harry threw out a hand and placed a cushioning charm beneath Draco’s stretched out body before Vanishing his own clothes.

Draco gasped as Harry rutted his length along his side. Harry wanted, no he needed, Draco to know exactly how much he wanted this, wanted him.

“Say it Draco,” Harry murmured before kissing him softly on the lips.

“Potter,” Draco whispered as Harry tucked into his neck, kissing the tender spot behind his ear.

“Say it,” Harry murmured into his collarbone. He lapped at the rigid bone, dragging his teeth farther down his chest.

“I can’t,” Draco whined as Harry took one of his nipples between his teeth. He bit down hard before running his tongue soothingly along the peak.

“Say it, Draco,” Harry growled. He needed to do more, to let Draco know how much he truly wanted him. He leaned back on his haunches, and took a moment to admire the gorgeous display beneath him. Long, pale skin, Draco’s breathtakingly scared eyes, his perfect pink cock.

Draco bit his lip as Harry stared, and he wanted to do nothing more than suck that lip into his mouth, to cover Draco in love and praise and worship.

He grabbed at Draco’s wrists, and pinned them over his head with one hand, pressing them into the floorboards, covering Draco’s body with his own. Harry rutted again, making sure Draco could feel the friction of skin against skin. How hard he was just from touching and kissing him. Harry sucked at his throat before pulling Draco’s bottom lip into his hot mouth. They kissed, lips and tongues and teeth until Harry’s cock was throbbing and his hand was hurting from grasping Draco’s wrists too tightly.

Panting, Harry released Draco from their kiss, dropping his head back to the crux of Draco’s shoulder.

“Harry,” Draco finally whispered, bucking his hips needily into Harry’s. Their cocks touched and Harry let out a grunt.

“Harry,” Draco gasped again as Harry dragged his lips back down to his nipples, pulling in each one with a tantalizing graze of his teeth.

“Harry,” Draco moaned as Harry released his wrist and repositioned them. He pulled Draco’s ankles up to his shoulders, exposing his furled hole.

“ _Lubricus_ ,” Harry clenched his hand as it filled with a sticky gel. He stared into Draco’s eyes as his finger circled Draco’s rim, licking his lips as he watched Draco gasp, his pupils growing wide.

“This is mine,” Harry murmured, pushing the tip of his finger into Draco’s tight heat. “This is what I want,” he added as he nudged in up to his knuckle.

“Yes, yours, all yours,” Draco whined as Harry worked open his core. “Crook your finger a little,” he added, “and twist a little to the - oh gods, yes, right there.”

Harry padded the bit of flesh that Draco had directed him to, and watched in awe as Draco writhed below him.

“This?” he teased as he continued to rub Draco’s sensitive spot with his finger.

“Yes, you prick,” Draco spat, but it didn’t hold the same vigor that it had before. Instead, his voice was needy, wanton. Harry swallowed, wanting to commit that sound to memory.

“What now, Draco?” Harry whispered into his ear, but before Draco could answer, Harry pushed another finger past his rim.

“Bloody, oh fuck, Harry,” Draco gasped as he worked his second finger to the knuckle, teasing his prostate lightly. There was one thing Harry had learned on the run, and it was how to adapt, to pick up on cues and follow his instincts. He listened to each throaty moan and whine escaping Draco’s lips, and adjusted his hand accordingly.

“Want more?” Harry asked when Draco’s groans were replaced with whimpers, when his hips began bucking erratically. Harry licked his lips as he watched a small bead of come escape the tip of Draco’s hard need.

“Yes, fuck, yes Harry, give me your cock,” Draco begged. Harry swallowed, reluctantly removing his fingers from Draco’s core.

He slathered his own length with another lubrication spell, finally giving his cock the attention it had been craving all evening. Even though he had been dutifully ignoring it, admiring Draco the way he had all evening had driven him close to the edge. He was sure not to last too long, but he tried to push fears of his expeditious orgasm from his mind.

He adjusted his hips and pulled Draco’s other ankle to his shoulder. “Ready?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Just go slow,” Draco encouraged. Harry nodded, and keeping his eyes locked on Draco, he pressed his cock against the tight hole.

Harry tried to focus on his breathing as his cock slipped past the tight rim and into Draco’s heat, but he couldn’t help but groan as Draco surrounded his length. Draco also let out a ragged moan, pressing his ankles tight on Harry’s shoulders to give him more leverage.

“More,” Draco gasped as Harry began to pump slowly in and out of his channel. He felt desperate to sink all the way in, to ram his cock as far as he could into the warm depth, but he needed to pace himself.

Instead, he leaned forward and took Draco’s mouth into his own, focusing on their kiss, their tongues. His hand crept up Draco’s shoulder until it rested at Draco’s throat, his thumb jolting over the soft skin covering his Adams apple.

He could feel every moan escaping Draco’s throat before they erupted against his lips as he kissed Draco. His cock delved further and further into him, driving them both close to the brink.

“Fuck me,” Draco gasped, and Harry complied, finally finding himself fully sheathed in Draco’s heat. He withdrew until only his tip remained in the hot channel, and jutted back in, sliding smooth and strong into Draco once again.

“Yes, gods, yes,” Draco panted as Harry continued to pummel into him, into his tight heat, and before he knew it, he was coming, his orgasm crashing over him unexpectedly, and all too soon.

“Harry,” Draco gasped, as his arse filled with warmth. Harry buried his head in Draco’s shoulder while his body continued to shudder through the aftermaths of his orgasm.

“I’m sorry” Harry apologized as he slipped out, but Draco just shook his head.

“I’ve got you,” Draco said, before pushing Harry onto his back. He loomed over him, straddling Harry’s waist, his arse pressed against Harry’s still rigid cock.“You’re so hot,” Draco groaned, his eyes blown wide as his hand jerked around his length. “Watching you, oh gods, watching you enter me for the first time, Harry, oh yes, fuck.” Draco’s voice grew high pitched as his fist flew over his own cock.

Harry shifted and pressed two fingers back into Draco’s arse, and while the angle wasn’t quite right, he was able to barely graze his prostate with the tips of his nails.

“Fuck, yes, Harry,” Draco grumbled, jerking wildly until his orgasm wracked through his body with fervor. He painted his fist and Harry’s chest with white spurts of his come and Harry’s name on his lips.

When his body stopped convulsing, Draco allowed his body to drop to Harry’s chest, snuggling there.

“Mmm, not bad, Potter,” Draco murmured into Harry’s ear as he cast a cleaning charm over them both.

“Back to Potter?” Harry asked, his voice tired. He could really use a nap, or maybe a biscuit.

“Old habits,” Draco shrugged. “Besides, everyone calls you Harry.”

“It is my name.”

“But only _I_ call you Potter.” Draco smirked, adding a sultry wink when he popped the P in Harry’s last name.

“What will the paparazzi call us?” Harry yawned. He summoned over a pillow and a blanket, ignoring the silver and green stripes.

"Happy." Draco snuggled in close, as Harry wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “They’ll say we’re happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, thank you everyone for coming along on that ride! I hope you like where the story ended up! Thank you for all of your comments and feedback and if you want to scream at me, please hit me up on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/keyflight790)!
> 
> Also, if you liked this fic, you'll probably like my other similar fic, [Kiss Quick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16671193/chapters/39092458) on A03. It's got more Neville, but more importantly, more drarry snark.


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